


run in our blood

by Lake (beyond_belief)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Not Beta Read, Sibling Incest, Sorry Not Sorry, actually in love with someone else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 21:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10885278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Lake
Summary: This summer, Max is the first one home.





	run in our blood

**Author's Note:**

> Um, it was only a matter of time before I got around to this particular pairing, let's be real here (she says, A WHOLE YEAR LATER). And I'm still mad Jack Eichel turned out to be such an asshole.

"How the fuck did you convince Mom to let you come pick me up alone?" Sam asks, dropping his duffle right onto the floor of baggage claim so that he can wrap his arms around Max's waist. 

"Well, it is nearly midnight," Max replies dryly, and Sam feels his arms come around his shoulders and squeeze. Max smells like the same cologne he's been using since he was twenty, and also like barbecue.

Sam grumbles, "You guys grilled without me," but snuggles closer, yawning, as Max laughs.

"Again, dumbass, it's nearly midnight." Max squeezes the back of his neck, then steps back. "Also, there's a ton of leftovers, so we can totally middle-of-the-night raid the fridge."

"Awesome. I'm starving." Sam picks up his bag, taking in Max's rumpled t-shirt and stupid pink shorts, the same ones he's had for years. "Lead on, my chauffeur."

Max twirls his truck keys around his finger in a way Sam figures is supposed to be threatening or something and says, "I'll make you drive."

"No, you won't," Sam replies confidently. He starts heading for the parking garage. 

"Sure you know you're going the right way?" Max calls after him.

Sam turns, walking backwards for a few steps. "You always park in the same part of the garage."

Max rolls his eyes and doesn't walk any faster. Once he reaches the entrance to the skywalk, Sam stops and waits for him so he can lean against Max as they go across to the parking structure. Max puts an arm around his shoulders. "You okay, Sammy?" Sam hears him ask, soft, close to Sam's ear.

"Just tired. 's a long flight." He wants to put his arms around Max's waist again, but that would mean stopping in the middle of the skywalk, and even though it's late there are still people around. 

Max seems to know what he's thinking and slides his hand up to tousle Sam's hair. "You can sleep in the car, if you want, and we'll be home in an hour."

Home. There's a strange feeling to it now that he's been living on his own with Jack for a year, the two of them managing a reasonable impression of self-sustaining adulthood, even if they do forget to add shit to their grocery list at least once a week. He moves far enough away from Max for them to make it to the truck without stumbling over Sam's giant bag, then lets Max heave it into the back for him while he crawls into the passenger side. Once both doors are shut, he moves over on the bench seat so he can settle against Max. "I missed you," he sighs. "Germany's too far away."

Max's mouth twists oddly in the bare light. He says, "It was. I just - can't see the future, you know? It wasn't bad."

"But it wasn't as good as you wanted." Sam muffles his yawn, then rests his hand on Max's thigh. He's sleepy and it's dim in the cab despite the occasional flash of airport lighting as Max navigates them out. 

"Can't see the future," Max repeats, just a murmur. 

"Tell me later?" Sam asks. He presses a kiss to Max's rough cheek. "I'm too tired right now, I'm sorry."

Max squeezes his fingers. "It's okay. Take a nap."

Sam lets his eyes slip closed. Max's body against his side is warm and familiar, despite the long time since Sam got to touch him like this last. Max had been on edge a year ago; there was something raw about him for the whole two months they'd both been in the same place. He doesn't _seem_ that way now, but Sam's only been on the ground less than an hour. 

He dozes for most of the ride to their parents' house, glad for this time to lean against Max in the small space of the cab, like a bubble that's just for the two of them. Max has the radio on but it's so soft Sam can barely make out what's playing when he does catch himself waking up enough to listen, and he thinks Max might sing along softly in a few spots but he's not sure.

The turn into the driveway is one his body knows even asleep. He blinks against the yellow light filtering in from the lamps on either side of the garage as Max puts the truck in park and turns off the engine. "'m up," he murmurs before Max can say anything, and unbuckles both their seatbelts. "Max. Kiss me before we go inside."

"No one else will be up, we can make it to my room," Max whispers back, but Sam doesn't care and fits their mouths together, just for a second, with barely any pressure at all. He feels Max's hand come around his waist, feels the aborted attempt to move them together and the hitch in Max's breath, then Max is pulling away. "Sammy."

"Inside, okay, yeah." 

He gets out of the truck and hauls his bag from the back, but only takes the smaller bag with his toothbrush and stuff out of it, leaving the rest in the garage. "I need to just dump the clothes in the wash," he says, making a face. "Now that they all got jammed in with my gear."

"A smart choice," Max laughs. "It's not like there's not clothes here."

Sam still has his own room and a full closet here, but if he's honest with himself, he's going to end up wearing Max's stuff for at least a few days. They slip into the house and it's dark, so Sam feels okay keeping one hand wrapped up in the hem of Max's shirt. There's a slight noise as they're going up the stairs, but Griff's door doesn't open, and neither does their parents', and Sam only almost treads on the back of Max's foot once before they're in Max's room.

Max shuts the door soundlessly, then locks it. His bed is unmade; it looks the same as it did last summer, sideways pillows and the sheet and light blanket pushed to one side. Sam pushes him down onto it and climbs onto his lap. "Okay?" he asks, holding himself away just a little bit.

"I thought you were exhausted," Max says, putting his hands on Sam's hips and pulling him close. 

Sam feels himself melt. He tucks his face against Max's neck. "I am. I just haven't touched you since last summer."

Max makes a quiet noise. Sam feels one hand card through his hair. "Sammy," Max whispers, breath warm on the side of Sam's face. "Sammy."

"Sssh," Sam breathes. " _Are_ you okay? I'll go to my room if you're not, Max, I just _want_ -"

Max's mouth covers his, cutting off Sam's plea. It's slow and soft, and Sam holds on to Max as close as he can, taking what Max wants to give him. This is something they've done since Sam's sixteenth birthday, ten hours from home, a couple beers in and nothing familiar in Cranbrook but Max, who'd been just as hesitant then. But he'd promised Sam whatever Sam wanted, and he'd never gone back on that.

"It doesn't feel like it's been a whole year," Sam whispers when they part. "Like, a _year_ , Max -"

"I know." Max's fingers wrap around his wrist, hard enough that Sam can feel the blood trapped pulsing in his hand. "You had a good season."

"It was all right." And it had been, except for the dull disappointment of being bottom half again, of still not making the playoffs, and that one stark moment where Jack had shattered his juice glass in the sink when it became apparent that McDavid was getting what they weren't. Sam keeps that moment to himself. He's not sure Jack even knew he was there. 

"I'm not going back to Cologne," Max says. There's a hollowness to the words despite the statement being something Sam already knew.

Gently, he tips Max so they can lie down, and curves their bodies together. "Tell me?" 

Max's breath feathers across his forehead as he speaks. "I thought - I thought another year with Corey would be... like, I thought it would mean something, you know? Fuck, I'm too old to hold on to thinking that just because we fucked around a few times meant - but he _asked_ me to go."

Sam tilts his head, presses a kiss underneath Max's jaw. The pulse there beats steadily against his lips.

"I feel like a fucking idiot for not being able to let go of it," Max says. "Hindsight, huh?"

"Twenty-twenty," Sam agrees. "Like, was he clueless, or..."

"He brought his wife and kids over and then he fucking lit up like the sun whenever him and Jonesy hung out." Max shudders as he says it, and Sam squeezes him tight. "I wasn't even the third wheel, I was like the last fucking kid picked at kickball." 

He slides his hand up Sam's back, so Sam just pushes his face into Max's neck again and holds on as tight as he dares. "You know I love you, right?" he offers, because that feels like all he's got to give at this moment. "No matter what you do."

"I know, Little." Max hasn't called him that in years. "Thanks."

Sam hums against his neck. "I want to kiss you more but I'm also so fucking tired," he confesses, slipping a hand up the back of Max's t-shirt. "Come warm up my bed for a few minutes."

Max chuckles at that. "It's not cold."

"It's a little chilly." 

"Just stay here," Max says, not letting go of him. "For a while. No one wakes up before six." He rolls onto his back, pulling Sam with to sprawl over him. "Just stay."

Sam adjusts his legs, then slides one hand up into Max's hair. "A little long, eh?"

"Shut up." Max turns his head to kiss his wrist. "You're almost too big for this."

"No, I like it," Sam breathes. 

"I said almost." Max strokes a hand down his back, slowly, rough fingertips mapping Sam's ribs and the bumps of his spine, the moment dragging out slower, longer, until the exhaustion closes over Sam and pulls him under for real.

**Author's Note:**

> Max Reinhart is still Best Reinhart even if he is unemployed.


End file.
